Anju's Baked Goods
by Sparks and Sharps
Summary: Years after a poorly-remembered incident forced her to close her bakery, one woman returns to Ikebukuro to open up shop once more. Now, if only she could figure out why that bartender keeps showing up and acting so strangely... Some strong language.
1. Chapter 1

**Behold, I am finally writing something other than a dumb, oneshot kinkmeme fill. Chances are that I'll end up giving up halfway through, though****.**

**Anyways, in case you're wondering: Yes, this is about Shizuo and that sweet little bakery-owning woman from ep 7. No, it's not romance (unless you count kid!Shizuo's canon schoolboy crush on her, but the point is you aren't gonna be seeing the two hooking up). Yes, I totally made the lady's name up, and I took some artistic liberties and/or probably entirely inaccurate guesses at their interactions (their first meeting is slightly extended and doesn't involve Kasuka, for example. I love the little robot, but I couldn't really work him into the scene without pretty much going "Oh yeah, Kasuka's here too. Just FYI"). **

**And now for Chapter 1. Feedback is much appreciated.**

* * *

_Every day in the afternoon, a young boy would pass by Anju's bakery._

_Children passing by Anju's store were not at all a rare occurrence. Many kids took this route on their way to and from school, and some would even stop by to grab something to eat. The boy himself wasn't exceptionally unusual either. He looked about ten years old, with tousled brown hair and an often sour expression. He was not a particularly tall or short kid, but he was a little on the thin side. Occasionally he'd be followed by a younger boy; a delicate-looking child with no emotion to his features. Under normal circumstances, this younger child (who she presumed was his younger brother) would be much more attention-grabbing than the boy she had noticed._

_Normal circumstances would also be far less unsettling, as the reason why the older, brown-haired boy drew her attention so much was because he was almost always injured._

_There was rarely a day that went by where she didn't see the child with some sort of cast or sling. When one would disappear, another would take it's place. There were rarely ever any scrapes, black-eyes or bloody noses; it was always sprains, dislocated shoulders and, most commonly, broken bones._

_It worried her._

* * *

"I still think you're crazy, woman. Trying to start a bakery in this economy- in Ikebukuro, of all places," one of the movers grumbled as he carried one of the shelves into the store.

"It's not like I'm trying to start a huge business. I'm fine with just making enough to get by. And I like Ikebukuro. I used to have a store here around the eighties. It's nostalgic." Anju huffed a bit as she carried the signs from the truck to the storefront. She was never built for strenuous physical activity, and middle age only made her worse at it.

The mover rolled his eyes, still struggling to get the shelf through the front door. Once he was finished, he once again began mocking Anju for her apparent daftness. "Yeah, well, you're probably not going to find the place like you left it. Bunch'a crazies moved in the last few years. Place is a complete madhouse."

"Oh?" Anju raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Yeah. Dollars, Yellow Scarves, Blue Square – a lot of gangs. There's also this crazy bastard that goes in and out of here from Shinjuku. Orihaba or something. Can't remember his name." The mover was supposed to be loading another shelf into the store. Instead, he leaned against the truck and pulled out a pack of cigarettes for a smoke. Anju made a mental note to file a complaint to his company when she had the time. "And then there's Heiwajima guy. Fucking monster, I tell you."

"Heiwajima?"

"Yeah. Ikebukuro's God of Destruction. Causes more property damage than all the gangs here combined." Lighting the cigarette, the mover took a long drag. "No idea why the police haven't grabbed him yet. They're probably just scared shitless. The bastard can throw a vending machine a across city block. No one in their right minds would try rick their asses trying to arrest that."

"Oh, that's ridiculous. It's probably just a silly urban legend, like that Black Rider thing they had when I used to live here."

The mover gave her a flat look at the mention of the Black Rider. "Don't you read the news? They're both real, lady. Especially this guy. Seen 'im in action myself once."

"Oh? And what did he look like?"

"Some guy with a bartender suit and a bad dye job. Skinny-ass guy too. Didn't think someone like that could punch a man clean out of his clothes."

"Well, now I_ know_ you're making things up."

"Whatever, lady. I'm not gonna force you to believe me. Just don't screw around with guys dressed like bartenders."


	2. Chapter 2

_After about two months of watching the boy pass by with yet another injury, Anju, decided she had to at least do something for him. One day, she set aside a bottle of milk in the fridge she used to keep her lunch cool and waited at the storefront. When he appeared , she called out to him._

"_Excuse me."_

_The boy stopped and turned in her direction, wearing that sour expression he often had. His left arm was in a sling. His right foot sported a bandage that reached halfway up his shin._

"_Are you all right? I've been seeing you around lately, and you're always injured. Is there anything I can do for you?"_

_The brown-haired boy stared at her, then at the ground. "I'm fine," he said in low voice. His tone did nothing to alleviate her worries._

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes." The boy refused to make eye contact as he spoke._

_Anju sighed. "Alright, if you say so. Still, can you wait here for a little bit? You look thirsty, and I'd hate to just let you go home with nothing."_

"_I don't have any money."_

"_Don't worry, it's a gift."_

"_Mom says I shouldn't take things from strangers."_

_Stubborn kid. Anju pressed on anyways. "Well, how about I introduce myself then? That way, I won't be a stranger."_

"_..."_

"_My name is Anju. May I ask you for yours?"_

"_...Shizuo." The boy still didn't look at her, but the resistance in his voice had disappeared._

"_Pleased to meet you, Shizuo-chan. Now, I have some milk in the fridge that you might like. Do you think you could wait here for a second while I go get it for you?"_

_The boy perked up a bit at the mention of milk and nodded. When Anju returned with the beverage, he practically downed it in one gulp. She chuckled and rubbed her hand in his hair, which seemed to embarrass him a bit as a blush creeped to his cheeks._

"_Feel free to come by any time, Shizuo. Your brother too."_

_The boy nodded shyly, and then ran off._

Anju encountered Ikebukuro's Strongest about two weeks after she opened shop.

She had just finished cleaning the storefront windows and was just about to have lunch. It was a nice day, so she decided to eat at one of the tables she had set outside her store. As she was sitting down, she spotted a young man on the other side of the rather narrow street.

He was a tall, lanky man. His hair was blond (there was something familiar about the way it fell over his eyes, though she couldn't quite place what), and he sported a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses. Most oddly, he was wearing an impeccably tailored bartender's uniform.

"_Just don't screw around with guys dressed like bartenders."_

The hair on her neck began to prickle a little. The man Anju saw now matched that curmudgeonly mover's description to the letter. While she hardly believed his stories (Vending machines? Really, now...), she had overheard more than a few stories about the violent antics of the God of Destruction in a Bartender Suit, so she felt she had reason to be cautious. Grabbing her bentou, she decided that she would eat inside today.

As she was getting up, she and the man in the bartender's suit made contact. Both of them froze.

The man stared at her. She stared back. After a bit, he took off his sunglasses before continuing their apparent staring contest. Despite the uneasy tension in the air, her fear seemed to alleviate a bit. The man's eyes were gentle, and his expression didn't seem to carry any anger or predatory feelings. If anything, he looked a little... worried?

After what seemed like forever, the man broke eye contact. Shoving the sunglasses back on to his nose, he started to walk again, now at a quickened pace. In less than a minute, he was gone.

Anju blinked. _Did I just scare off Ikebukuro's so-called God of Destruction?_


End file.
